Cum on Feel the Noise
by SoulfulSam
Summary: No matter how many times Dean brings out the handcuffs, Sam always says 'no' to tying Dean to the bed... Wincest, schmoop & boy smexing ahoy! FYI there's no actual bondage in the story, hopefully you bondage freaks won't be too disappointed. Set in S8 in "As Time Goes By" & a little in "Everybody Hates Hitler" There're a few spoilers, so watch out if you haven't seen those epis


I really want to thank Twinchester Angel for her late-night e-mailing about Wincest and MJLove1 for some beautiful lines of plot because without them this story would not exist.

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Dean had spent what felt like years trying to convince Sam to tie him to the bed. _Dean, what about being tied up is sexy to you? We get tied up all the time, and it's never any fun_. But being tied up and at the mercy of some bloodthirsty monster who wanted to eat him was nothing like laying there naked and completely at Sam's mercy as Sam hungrily attacked him. Giving it all up to Sam, letting Sam have free reign over his body, yeah, that sounded scary and new and really fucking hot. Because Dean knew how much of a total control freak Sam was underneath that nice guy exterior and having that freak totally unleashed, letting him have total dominion while Dean had to just lay there and go along with it, it would be a side of Sam that even he had never seen before. But no matter how many times Dean asked, or brought out a gag and blindfold, or even tied ropes to Sam's bedpost, Sam just wouldn't budge.

But then one day while he and Sam were fooling around in a hotel room in Carbondale, Illinois, it seemed for a moment that Sam's whole 'No Bondage' rule was going to change. Sam had Dean pinned down on Sam's bed and was kissing the daylights out of him. Since they'd each said their final goodbyes to Amelia and Benny, Sam had become almost insatiable for Dean and as they kissed, Sam panted into Dean's mouth, Sam's skin was flushed, and his body was throwing off so much heat that it was making Dean sweat. Sam was completely swept up in the moment, he wanted him, and he was losing control. Good thing Dean had snuck the handcuffs out of the trunk just before checking in. Before Sam had time to protest, Dean pulled the cuffs out of his pocket and cuffed his right wrist to the bed. Sam heard the click and when he looked up, his face changed from lust to shock. He looked away from the cuffs and down at Dean, uncertain and nervous.

"C'mon, Sam. Just try it. Just once."

Sam stared down into his face for several of quiet communication.

_I'm not sure about this, Dean._

_Why? I'm the one who's going to be tied up. C'mon, Sam._ He waggled his eyebrows suggestively._ Free pass; anything you want to do to me._

Sam nodded, but then got up and walked over to the kitchenette and sat down at the table.

"Sam, what the Hell?"

Sam tilted his head to the side and scratched the back of his head. "If we're going to do this, we should probably, you know, lay down some ground rules?"

"Ground rules?" Dean rolled his eyes and fished the handcuff key from his pocket. "What for?" He uncuffed himself from the bedpost and stuffed the cuffs back into his pocket. "This is supposed to be fun."

"I know. So, I don't want to, you know, do anything that's going to make you uncomfortable."

Dean grinned as he sauntered over to the table. "But that's part of the fun."

"Aw, come on, Dean." Sam sighed exasperatedly. "Can we at least have a safe word?"

"For who? I'll have a gag in my mouth. Sam! You're making this into something that it doesn't have to be. It's just a little bondage."

Sam just sat there, giving him that damn big-eyed, puppy dog look and, dammit, it had Dean considering choosing a safe word. But Dean didn't want a safe word, or to turn this into some planned, organized event; he wanted it to be spur of the moment, raw, and a little frightening with all its newness and novelty. He frowned and grabbed for one of his boots on the floor.

"Alright, you know what? Forget it. Sorry I asked."

Sam got up from the table and walked to the sink as Dean put on his boots. He was about to call Sam a killjoy when suddenly, a man in an old-fashioned suit burst out of their closet.

"Where's John Winchester?"

Sam and Dean exchanged glances_. Guess it's a good thing you brought those handcuffs after all_.

Dean frowned. _Sonovabitch; I never get what I want_.

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Later that night as Dean lay in bed, it was impossible for him to sleep. Weirdly, it wasn't because their grandfather who'd just appeared from the 1950s was sleeping just outside their room or that there was some super-charged Hellbitch hunting them. The problem was that his bed felt wrong; the mattress felt weird with no weight on the other side of it, the air didn't smell like motel soap, and Sam's musk and aftershave, there was no comforting weight from Sam's gigantic paw pressing down on his chest, and the bed was cold without Sam's body heat beside him. When Dean finally did doze, he'd roll over in his sleep and, at not feeling a hard body, he'd snap wide awake in attack mode. He'd only been in bed three hours and had awakened with his hand gripping the gun under his pillow twice already. He turned his head so he could look at Sam. His eyes were closed he was breathing evenly. Well, at least one of them could sleep. Dean was thinking of trudging out to the kitchen to see how Henry was doing when he heard Sam sigh.

"Sam?" Dean only dared to half-whisper, for fear of waking their grandfather.

Sam rolled over to his side and looked at Dean with alert eyes. "Yeah?"

"Can't sleep?"

"No."

"Yeah, me either."

They laid on their sides staring at each other for a long time, long enough that it should have passed the point of weird and Sam's face should have started to look like a stranger's. But it didn't and while just laying perfectly still and doing nothing but watching Sam's face like this, was a little weird, it was also…nice to feel this prolonged connection with Sam, even if it was from halfway across the room. And this way they could also talk to each other, without needing to worry about being overheard.

Sam frowned and jerked his head backwards. _The bed isn't comfortable without you._

Dean smirked. _Oh, feeling scared without your big, strong, man, Samantha?_

Sam shot him the bitchface. _Yeah, tell me why you can't sleep, Dean._

_Shuddup._ He roved his eyes over Sam's body under the covers. _I wanna touch you so bad._

Sam's eyes shot down to his own torso and then back up. _Yeah, that makes two of us._

Dean waggled his eyebrows. _Wanna do something about it?_

Sam looked cautiously over to the next room, then slid backwards and turned down the covers. That was all the invitation Dean needed; he threw back his covers, hopped into Sam's bed, and kissed him deeply. Sam wasted no time in getting his tongue into Dean's mouth, kissing him back with such passion that it already bordered on frenzy. As they kissed, the hot, hard bulge underneath Sam's jeans brushed against Dean's. At feeling the little bit of friction, Sam's breath hitched. He firmly grabbed Dean's ass, pushed them flush against each other, and began grinding against him. Dean knew Sam was frustrated; Hell, they both were after what had happened earlier that afternoon, and he wanted, so badly, to give Sam some relief. But their grandfather was also literally just outside their room and if he walked in and saw this…Henry already thought they were apes and Dean did _not_ want to think about how his walking in would change his opinion of them. As Dean silently debated with himself, Sam stopped grinding and moved backwards a couple of inches. Sam must have also been worried about their visitor in the next room…_whoa, hello_! Sam was rubbing his palm rubbing against the bulge in Dean's pants. God, that big, warm hand felt so good there, so good… Sam moved his hand so that he was using his fingers to rub against the outline of the head, by now easily discernible and tight against the front of his pants. This was getting too intense; if he didn't put an end to things now, they might not be able to stop. As it was, after he left Sam's bed, he was going to have to make a trip to the bathroom to make his hard-on go away. But Sam showed no sign of stopping; instead, he unzipped Dean's pants. Dean broke the kiss and stared at Sam with wide eyes.

"Sam?" He wasn't sure if it was a question or an objection. In fact, he was pretty unsure of his place in this altogether; he wasn't used to having to be the rational one when it came to sex.

Sam mirrored back the same wide-eyed look. "Can you be quiet, Dean?"

Dean looked towards the open doorway. He hadn't seen or heard any sign of Henry in at least an hour. If he was sleeping, maybe this could be okay, maybe if they were careful…Dean unbuckled his belt, undid the button of his pants, and pushed them down to the top of his thighs. Sam reached under Dean's shirt and traced his finger down the thin line of blond hair that started just under his belly button. They didn't have much time and so it was only after just a little petting above Dean's groin that Sam's hand griped Dean's shaft and began to pump. Dean closed his eyes and bit his lip to bite back a moan, and then Sam twisted his wrist just before sweeping over the head, just the way Dean liked, and Dean made a muffled 'mph' through his clenched teeth. It wasn't that he was a screamer exactly, but he also wasn't the kind of guy to just lay there silently. Sam's hot, calloused hand held him firmly and stoked him fast and sure; Dean knew he wasn't going to last longer than another couple of minutes. He tried to hold in all sound by pursing and biting his lips, squeezing his eyes shut, and grabbing at whatever was nearest; sheets, pillows, Sam's arm. The fact that he had to stay quiet, that there was so much risk involved in being caught somehow just made this whole thing a hundred times hotter and he heard Sam breathing heavily in his ear and knowing that he was so turned on just made it even better. Dean was getting close – so close – and then Sam slowed down the pace to painfully slow.

"Faster," Dean growled.

"Wait."

Dean opened his eyes and saw Sam's face close to his and Dean tilted his head up, thinking Sam wanted to kiss him, but Sam made no move to come any closer; he just watched him, pupils dilated wide, breathing about as heavily as if he was the one getting jerked off. And Dean wanted to touch Sam, to give him as much pleasure as he was getting, to watch him enjoy being touched. His hands went to Sam's belt buckle.

"No!" Sam hissed the word quietly yet forcefully and caught his wrists in one hand. Dean stopped with Sam's big belt buckle still in hand. "Don't touch me," he whispered breathlessly, "not yet."

Then Sam twisted his wrist again and smiled when Dean sucked in air through his mouth to avoid moaning. And that was when it occurred to Dean; Sam was getting off on trying to make him moan when he couldn't. He'd never seen Sam like before, but, then again, they'd never had any kind of sex when noise had been such an issue, either. And seeing this slightly sadistic side in him was kind of hot, but Dean also still felt on the brink of orgasm and it was soon going to get painful. He bucked his hips into Sam's hand, then grabbed Sam by the shirt and tugged. Sam willingly came along and Dean brought Sam's ear to his mouth.

"Dammit Sam, let me come!"

"What's that?" He dragged his hand painfully slow over Dean's shaft and then rubbed his thumb against the slit.

"Oh God!" He bit his lip hard enough that it hurt. "I need it, please!"

Sam smirked, looking satisfied. Maybe that was what he'd been looking for all along: to make Dean say please, to make him even beg a little. He sped up again, giving Dean what he wanted. Dean's body shook, he grabbed two fistfuls of sheets, his back arched off the bed, and he came with a little "uh" sound that almost sounded like a sigh. Sam pulled his hand away from Dean and wiped his come off under one of his pillows. Dean laid still for a moment, enjoying his post-orgasmic high and when Sam came in for a kiss, Dean kissed him a little sluggishly; he was finally starting to feel tired. He turned completely towards Sam and once again went for his belt.

"Uh, you don't have to do that."

Dean was about to ask why, but then he felt the hot wet patch on the front of Sam's jeans. He looked at Sam and cocked his eyebrow. _Really? Just from…_

_You didn't see yourself._

Dean shook his head in disbelief. They kissed for a few more seconds, but then Sam pulled away.

"You know you can't stay here, right? If you do, Henry's going to wonder why his grandsons still share a bed."

"Yeah, I know."

Sam leaned in for another kiss, but Dean quickly grabbed the clean pillow from the bed and hopped out.

"Oh, you asshole!"

Dean got into his own bed and rested his head on the pillow and sighed contentedly. "Oh yeah, that's much better."

"Seriously?"

"Shut up."

Dean smirked, already feeling himself drifting off to sleep; the pillow smelled clean and a little musky...like... he yawned and gripped the pillow closer...mm, Sammy...

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Three weeks later, Dean walked into the library of the Men of Letters' bunker, fresh out of the shower and wearing a plush robe, and found Sam still pouring over books. It felt like it had been half a lifetime since they'd found out about the Men of Letters and the mystic box that that demon bitch Abbadon was after. Part of that was no doubt due to the physical and emotional drain the hunt had had on them, but the other part of it was Sam's obsession with research, which had reached disturbing levels, even for Sam. It was thanks to his round-the-clock research that they were able to find this bunker in the first place, which Dean was actually grateful for; the place was full of more luxury and style than Dean had ever hoped either of them could see in their lifetime. The bedrooms were carpeted in plush carpet deep enough for Dean to lose sight of his toes, the bed sheets were made of silk, and the showers were even better than those memorable steam showers he'd taken at that cursed townhome complex back in 2005. But Sam needed a break. Even with the impressive collection of books in this library, at the rate Sam was going, he was going to run out of reading material in a month's time.

So when Dean stepped into the library to find Sam's nose in yet another ancient volume, he tried some conversation to lighten up things. Instead, he found out that, on top of the research Sam was doing, he'd also found a case in the area for them to work. This was seriously beyond being a work-a-holic. But nothing he could say deriding the Men of Letters, or the creepy box, or anything else, could change Sam's mind about his research.

Finally, when they were done talking about the new hunt, Sam smirked at him. "So, you gonna take off the dead guy robe?"

"Oh, I'll take it off, alright." Dean unfastened the robe and pushed it to the floor. "Let's say we take a little break."

Sam looked from Dean over to his table full of books and then back. "I really want to…"

Dean grinned and took a step towards him. "Cookie."

"What?"

"That's my safe word; it's easy to hear through a gag. Still don't know why I need it; I have no idea what your tame ass could come up with that would scare me, but…"

Sam smiled at the ground and scratched the back of his head. "Well, so, I guess I don't have to tell you that I took the handcuffs, gag, and blindfold out of the trunk and put them into my bag, huh?"

Dean's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I figure, you want to try it, so," he shrugged, "why not?"

"Oh, you know I'm not letting you get back to your research after hearing that."

Sam's eyes drifted down to Dean's groin, where it was plain that he was already taking a lot of interest in the items in Sam's bag.

"Yeah, I can see that."

Dean grabbed Sam's arm and tugged him towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms. "Best day ever."


End file.
